The Right Thing
by Linwen
Summary: RemusOC, analysis of Remus' psyche, angst. Insecurity is Remus' middle name, and he craves for friendship bonds. Will he go over the line to keep his dear goddaughter closer to him, especially when their relationship borders the limits of legality?
1. Chapter 1: At last, a meeting

**Author's Notes:** This story comes from a dream I had. It's a blatant Mary-Sue from the boring!angst! kind, I know, but I had to get it out of my chest. And before I embarrass myself any further, I finish this part by saying that some of the things are from real life, which sucks.

**Disclaimer:** Remus Lupin and all things/persons/places related to the Harry Potter series belong to J. K. Rowling. Only the character of Constance Leery belongs to me, and it does depict some sides of my life, though awfully distorted and angstified.

* * *

**T H E **

**R I G H T **

**T H I N G**

_by Linwenilid_

**ooo**

It was a beautiful park. Just around the corner from Constance's house, a large extension of gardens and trees surrounded a fountain, the water sparkling with green and golden, taking in the reflections of artificial jets of light at the bottom. There were scattered benches here and there, a good number of children playing on their bicycles, skateboards and the like, a merry couple embracing each other, minding their own business under the light of the setting sun, a few old people, feeding the doves …

And Constance.

The girl was nearly unrecognizable. The last time Remus had seen her, she was barely five feet and two inches tall, and kept on asking him to lend her his wand, "to wave around as mummie does", she had said. But now, it was obvious she had become taller, judging by the large space her legs, half-folded towards her mid-section, occupied in a solitary bench. She didn't seem to have noticed the man walking to her, smiling serenely and, if barely, sadly, until he was a couple of feet away.

"Remus! You came!" She said, upon looking up and finding the kind gaze of her godfather pouring down on her, and slid out of the bench, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face on his shoulder. Remus gave a start; he didn't expect her to be so effusive on her demonstrations of affection, after all the time he had been away, but when she didn't let go of him, he hugged her awkwardly around the waist, patting her back in a feeble consolation, and noticed she was crying.

"Oh, dear ..." He said, and let his embrace transmit his deep concern, holding her tightly and leaning down his head to her shoulder. She noticed this, and hugged him harder, her hands crumpling into fists. It brought a very intense emotion, a despairing feeling into Remus' chest, to stand there, so close to her and not being able to do a single thing to ease her pain, and for a moment, he forgot why was he there, as he slid a caressing hand down her long, black hair in a hopeful attempt to make her feel she wasn't alone.

When her tears finally subsided, she pulled herself together and let go of an overwhelmed Remus. She wiped her face with the sleeve of her sweater, and flattened her hair awkwardly.

"Sorry, sorry about this, I'm just ..." She said hastily, trying nervously to smile. Remus held her shoulders and smiled into her face, reassuringly. "It's alright, you're with a friend, remember?" He said softly, trying to steer the conversation to those old days of bliss, in which a curious and chatting little Connie would grab his hand to cross the street to the ice-cream parlor.

Constance chuckled, and almost gave way to another session of sobbing, as the very same memory had assaulted her, but restrained the feeling with a supreme effort, and slid her arm around her godfather's right one. "What about some ice-cream?" She asked shyly, looking at him with a feeble smile attempting to look mischievous. Remus was gladly up to the treat, so they headed away from the park's noisy joy to find a quiet place to talk.

* * *

It was not really hard to see why Constance had been crying. About half-an-hour earlier, Remus had stepped on the Leerys' doorstep, and knocked on the door for rather a good while, until a scruffy-looking youngster of about fifteen had opened the door. 

"Who are you?" He had asked with a sleepy voice. The young boy did seem to have been taking a very long nap, and upon closer inspection, he was still wearing pajamas.

"Timothy? Hi, I'm Constance's godfather, Remus, I don't think you remember me ..." The young boy groaned and walked away from the door, leaving it open. Remus pondered for a mere second if this was an invitation to enter, and followed the boy inside.

"You dirty boy! Still sleeping this late, lazy bugger! Put on some proper clothes quickly, young man, or there'll be trouble for you!" A sharp, high-pitched voice called out as its owner walked down the stairs from the upper floor. Alicia Leery, Constance's mother was a bad-tempered woman; upon her marriage with Douglas Leery, on account of Constance's upcoming, she had developed bitterness against family life, but she'd more likely be found dead in her bedroom than admitting it. It was clear, though, to the few family friends that she never got used to the idea of being tied to a husband and kids, and that she took it on her immediate relations.

"Ah, Alicia, it's so nice to see you, after all this time," Remus said stepping forwards to stretch hands with the woman. A faint discomfort wrinkled the woman's forehead, but she repressed it quickly and smiled widely.

"Remus! It's been so long!" She met his outstretched hand, and shook it a bit too strongly. "I'm so sorry about Timothy, but you know, teenagers ..."

"Never you mind about that, dear Alice." Remus waved the issue aside, and took the seat Alicia offered with a hand motion, looking nonchalantly around the living room.

It was a dark place. Apparently, the curtains hadn't been opened for a long time, and a moderately thick layer of dust covered the centre table and the china figures on it. _Those are really ugly figures_, Remus thought distractedly, and wondered why would Alice keep them in public display. The ugliest one depicted a deformed-looking gnome, holding a large carp on one hand and something resembling a hook on the other. They were clearly supposed to represent a rough fishing scene, but apparently the artist had overdone it on the 'rough' part.

"So, how's life been?" Alicia asked in a business-like manner, conjuring lazily a couple of glasses and a bottle of firewhisky out of thin air.

"I've been fine, thank you very much. Tough job, being on the good side, you know." He said, accepting the drink and sipping lightly. Alicia drank down the contents of her glass, and refilled it with clear expertise.

"Yes, indeed it is. Me, for example." She said, drinking avidly from her glass. "I work my arse around the clock to get this family's hot meals on time, and what do I get? A lazy bum for a son, and a disrespectful daughter, whose whereabouts I don't even know ... Constance! Get down here to say hello to your godfather!" She cried out, looking at the stairs. Remus shifted uncomfortably on his seat, and straightened up, leaving his full glass on the table. Alice noticed his discomfort, and pulled herself together. "But of course, you don't want to hear the rambling of a tired woman, do you?" She asked apologetically, and finished her second glass of firewhisky.

"In fact, I was here to see Constance. Is she here?" He asked, in vain, as there hadn't been any answer to Alicia's earlier shout.

"She should be," Alicia answered annoyed, and rose from her chair. "Timothy! Tell Constance to get down here now!" She shouted again in a very unpleasant way.

"Tell her yourself!" A breaking male voice trailed down to the living room, muffled by his bedroom's closed door.

"You little ungrateful ..." Alicia stalked up the stairs, albeit slightly tipsily. "Don't talk to me like that, young man!" Her voice came down from the upper floor, followed by the distinct sound of the door slamming open.

"She's ou- bloody damn, that hurt! Stop it- ouch! Dad!" A low, male voice mingled with the ruckus and the shrill voice of Alicia grew louder.

"He's not talking properly to me! I'm his mother, he must respect me!" She cried, as the male voice said something barely audible, and the teenager mumbled something that seemed to decrease his mother's anger.

"She's out for a walk," Alicia said to Remus as she walked down the stairs. "At the park, probably, around the corner from here." She strode to the front door and pulled it open as though she wanted to break it out of its hinges.

"Probably it's best," said Remus, sliding before her and out of the house, "if I go and find her alone. You know, to make her see good reason and that." He lied shamelessly. Alicia was a bit shocked about his subtle invitation to remain behind, but didn't say anything as she nodded, approvingly. "See you in a bit." Remus said, and walked down the entrance stairs.

"And tell her to stop sobbing about those bloody cats," Alicia's voice trailed down, after him. "We did what was best, and that's that."

Remus' heart sank at her words. For the life of him, he would never understand how some people could be so compassionless…

In his mind, Constance's last letter to him repeated on and on, nudging his discomfort with her parents' managing of their household.

_They killed my cat's offspring, Remus. And didn't turn a hair when I told them I already had a home for each of them …_


	2. Chapter 2: The inner long for warmth

**Author's Notes: **Writing a Mary Sue is a shamefully low and dirty pleasure, but a pleasure, after all. Which speaks very badly of yours truly.

**Disclaimer:** Remus Lupin, and all things related to the Potterverse belong to J.K. Rowling.

* * *

**T H E **

**R I G H T **

**T H I N G**

**ooo**

**Chapter Two: The Inner Long for Warmth**

Constance's vacant stare was fixed in a small White Toy Poodle, hopping up and down to call his master's attention, a child of about nine-years-old.

"Connie?" Remus' soft voice tried to call back the girl's attention.

"It's not ..." she said, not taking her eyes away from the dog. "It isn't just my kittens, you know ..." She said, finally looking up into the man's face. "It's everything."

Remus' expression wavered between pity and confusion, and he, too, looked away. "It's just the way things are," Constance went on, feeling that an explanation was in order. "Ever since we came ... well, since they pulled us out of Hogwarts, things had gone down in short to no time." She said, paddling distractedly with her spoon into her chocolate-and-mint ice-cream. "Just take a look at Timmy, did you get round to see him?"

"Yes." Remus answered. "As a matter of fact, he opened the door for me."

Constance raised an eyebrow. "Impressive feat, coming from him. He hardly leaves his room these days. And I feel the same way, but ..."

She gulped the incipient tears fighting to stream out with a cry. "But I can't stand to _be_ there, like he does. Probably-" she cut herself abruptly, and put a large amount of ice-cream in her mouth, more to clear her throat somehow than to enjoy its flavour. "Probably it's a temper thing, you know? I, too, feel like shutting myself in my room, and never leave, but I feel like ..." she stopped. "Like suffocating, you know? Like the whole room, and the house is very much lacking in oxygen, and that, if I stay there for longer, I'd just fall asleep and never wake up ..." She trailed away, stunned again into silence.

Remus had no words. In a very frightening way, it was like listening to Sirius complaining about his family, back in the old school days. The suffocating house, filled with his parents' dislike of him and those bouts of Dark Magic putting the sombre tone even in the smallest rooms seemed to have its equivalent in Constance's house. Remus didn't dare asking about her father, but feared he would have to, eventually.

Luckily for him, Constance brought up the topic first.

"I feel so sorry for him, you know? My father, having to stand that harpy I have to call 'mother' all year long ..."

"Connie," Remus had to step in. "Let us not start calling names, alright? I know your mother has not been the loveliest person in the world, but-"

"So typical of you." Constance said, smirking bitterly. Remus sighed, and let her continue. She obviously wouldn't listen to reason, at that moment. "So, your father is not at his ease, I presume?" He said, inviting her to continue.

"No, he's not." Constance said. "It doesn't help the fact that mum can do magic and he can't, you know ..." She said, and suddenly, felt hot with anger. "You see, I can understand that a witch or wizard feels superior to a Muggle; after all, we're an outnumbered breed of humans, and we can do things that surpass the common man's understanding, but ..." She bit her lip, and looked away, seemingly upset.

"Yes?" Remus asked.

"But to take it on your life-partner, and make them feel like a lowly creature has got to be the meanest thing to do, in my opinion. I often wonder why is that he married her in the first place." She finished, sinking the spoon on her ice-cream a bit too hard. A few drops fell off on the table, but Constance didn't take notice.

Remus did know why they had gotten married, and it wasn't a very pleasant reason. He decided not to discuss this with Constance, as she would then feel as a direct responsible of her parents' unhappy marital life.

The girl remained silent. As a young waitress came over to retrieve the empty tableware, Remus peered into his goddaughter's face, wondering if she did want to stay on the subject, or else, distract her mind into a different affair. _You never know with women_, he thought.

"So, how are your studies going? I remember you told me you had top marks in Charms." He said, as they walked out the establishment. Constance's face brightened up slightly as she looked at him, smiling.

"Yes, I do. I love Charms; Flitwick is such a good teacher."

"_Professor _Flitwick, Connie." Remus said.

"Anyway," She said, hugging her godfather's arm in a slightly childish manner, as they went back to the park. "Last year, when that awful Umbridge woman took over Hogwarts- no, way before that-, we asked him for a good background reading on defensive charms, you know," she went on, waving her hands excitedly on her talk, "since she insisted on keeping our heads buried into that worthless Ministry leaflet, and he was very helpful. He even tutored over us on non-verbal spells, and we managed to cover that part of the syllabus for our N.E.W.T.s next year ..."

She fell silent. Remus feared that she'd get to that part of the conversation. Sighing, he guided her to an empty bench and made her sit down.

"Listen, Connie." He said slowly. "One of the reasons I came to visit you after so long was that I did know you wouldn't be so happy about dropping your studies like that. I know the present situation is dire, what with the open warfare the Wizarding World is facing, and that all your parents want is-"

"To systematically deprive us of all that rejoices our hearts, yes." She cut him off, bitterly.

"No. They want to protect you, specially your mother, who happened to be in the midst of the war last time it happened. In their way, albeit a very confusing one, they strive to keep the both of you safe, and if they feel they ought to keep you at home to achieve it, that's their choice, and the best they can do." He said, his voice turning slightly steely.

Constance didn't look up to his face. Remus might be good-intentioned, he could even be right, but he would never know what it was to live in a place in which the ones that are supposed to give you a sense of protection were the ones that kept making you feel unsafe and anxious about your existence, and made you wonder if there was really a good reason why you had to stand all that. But on the other hand, his family life hadn't exactly been a dream world, in fact.

"I knew you'd say that." She said, finally. "Always do the right thing, right?" Constance looked into his temporally stern eyes, though never devoid of nobility and kindness. "And any other time, I would have known you were right, and stuck to your advice, but this time, Remus ..." She hesitated a bit. "This time, _I don't care _for the right thing anymore ..."

Those dreaded words. Remus was transported back to his own lonely reality, that part of his life in which he'd long for any kind of human touch, being shunned and despised for his werewolf condition. As a grown-up man, he had found it extremely difficult to keep doing the right thing, to keep his noble and helpful composure with the same people who happened to deny him job opportunities, dwelling places and even their sympathy, as he went from place to place. Ever since he had filled up that dreaded werewolf registry, he had not being able to live a normal wizard's life. And it all came down, as Constance had so painfully stated it, to do the right thing. He simply didn't think people should not be aware of his condition, if he was going to spend time around them.

Remus threw an arm around his goddaughter's shoulders, and she leaned on his shoulder. A soft waft of flowery scent washed over his face as he leaned on her head, and he closed his eyes in remembrance. He had had to fight those same words off his mind to prevent himself from turning bitter and nasty towards innocent people, but he was a grown-up when it had become inescapable to deal with such matter. And it had been hard, alright. But his goddaughter - she was barely a child! Probably her developed body made her look like a woman already, but those innocent eyes, so full of sadness and devoid of hope denounced her tender age. It was unfair and rather painful to see her defeated. She needed not to stop fighting, not at such an early age.

"I am leaving my house, Remus." She said, not looking up to his face. She had taken interest in a couple of birds, fluttering on a nearby grass extension, apparently immersed in a joyful courtship.

Remus sighed in despair and didn't say a single thing. He had feared Constance would come up with something like this, and frankly, he wasn't at all sure about what exactly she'd be capable of. She had inherited her mother's fiery temper; albeit a compassionate streak would show up very often, the same kind of interest in people and animals around her that had been her father's main quality.

"Connie, think clearly about this, please. You can't just leave your house like that, where'd you live?" He asked, trying to knock some sense into the girl.

But obviously, she wouldn't have any of this.

"I can find a job, on a regular place. I'm not far from being seventeen, and then I can perform magic freely, and be employed. Most jobs pick their employees as soon as they leave Hogwarts, and I'm only one year short of education, even less than that. My skills have to do, at least for a moderately good job, I think." She spoke matter-of-factly, as though she had been rehearsing this part of her speech for a good time. Remus shook his head, and turned on his seat, to face her completely.

"You know that is not all there is, Constance." He said, truly concerned. "In these times of war, the worst thing one can do is to isolate themselves from their beloved ones-"

"But they're not my beloved anymore!" She cut across sharply. Remus ignored her words, and went on.

"Even if a skilled witch, which I don't doubt you are, I do not think you would be safe from being attacked if the Death Eaters went on a violent rampage around the place you are. And if you plan to start your working life on the Wizarding society, I presume you'd plan on living on a place with a high rate of magical population." He argued, looking closely at her. She held his gaze determinedly, a slight frown on her forehead. "And as much as I want to think you're old enough to live on your own," he went on, "I don't think you are ready to face the challenges of a lonely existence. You are still too young to know what it is to-"

"Remus!" Constance cut him straight on his words, and drew closer to him to grab his face within her hands. The man was stunned into stillness. "Look at me, come on! Take a good look at me and tell me, am I still a child?" She said, her face a mere inch away from his. She was trembling from head to toes, and her face was contorted into a painful expression as she drilled her gaze into the wizard's shocked one. Tears were trickling down her eyes, and they shone like silver in the quickly-darkening afternoon. "Do you think I don't know what awaits out there? Do you think I still remain on that blissful ignorance that accompanied me on my childhood years? If you think so, then, I think I considered you a lot wiser than you really are."

She let go of him, and rose from the bench, walking quickly across the rhododendron-framed path. Still feeling slightly numb about what had just happened, Remus stood up and walked after her, getting hold of her arm gently but firmly as well, and turned her around. Her eyes were still filled with tears, and she seemed to be struggling to remain as calm as possible.

"You heard what happened to Mrs Abbott? Must have been all over the newspapers, yes." Constance said, with a hard voice. "But do you know how it is to see her daughter crumbling under the immense weight of having her mother killed in such a merciless way? A bright, young girl a mere year younger than me, falling apart to pieces upon the news of her mother's death, that's the saddest sight a person can be witness of." She said, shaking off Remus' hand from her arm.

"Yes, I do know what it is to be in permanent danger due to the cruel violence of a few, but what awaits me there," she waved a trembling hand to her house's general direction, "is far worse than what would may or may not be in store for me if I leave." She said, not taking her eyes off him.

"If I die - and yes, I've considered that option, Remus, don't give me that face - I, at least, would go away being at peace with the world, having discovered I'm worthy to exist in this world by doing what I like the most, or whatever I like. I would be happy, even if I am tortured with the _Cruciatus_ Curse, if I've managed to make my living worthy by being happy at least for a few months. But if I go back- no, if _you _make me go back there and _stay_," she said, pointing at him, "it would be as though you're killing my spirit. That house is a living hell, and it won't be long until I dispose of my life myself, and I'm sure Timothy thinks like me." She said, pulling her sleeve up and showing him a small scar on the back of her arm.

"See this? It's my mother's newfound disciplining method. Ask Timothy, he'll have a few more to show you." She said, leaving her arm to Remus' inspection. The man was speechless, as he noticed that scar and a few more on her barely illuminated arms. The sun had almost disappeared behind the thick extension of trees, and a chilly breeze was starting to blow.

"W-Why didn't you tell me ..." he stammered, gazing into her black eyes, still shining with tears.

"Come on, Remus, was it really too hard to guess?" She said, bitterly. "That's not all there is, though. Remember Athena, our owl? Ever since my mother _disposed " _The girl marked the word with sarcasm, "of my cats, she never returned. I guess she felt she was next, and fled away. My cat keeps on calling out her offspring, and looking for them in every corner she can get into. My parents keep on yelling at each other, and whenever my mother loses control, she casts some very nasty spells on me and my brother, and we are never too swift to avoid her attacks." She glanced sideways at this sentence, as Remus gave an involuntary start of upset surprise. The girl went on in her ramble, ignoring her godfather's shock.

"And as though it wasn't enough, she refuses to buy us schoolbooks so we can keep on with our education, arguing that they're too expensive and that we ought to stick to those we already have. Do you think that's a happy, normal family environment? I don't think so." She finished, and waited for her godfather's retort.

Remus didn't find anything remotely comforting, or helpful to say to her. She had gotten almost as tall as him, and even though she was barely sixteen years old, the trials she had gone through had eaten over her innocence, and had irremissibly worn her spirits out and into weary adulthood. Her reasoning might be biased, he thought, but doesn't she, at least, have a say on the way her life carries on? On a very little corner of his mind, Remus thought she was right in refusing to do what would appear to be the right thing.

And as the weight of everything she had just told him finished him off for arguments, he could do nothing else than throw his arms around her. Embracing her seemed, for the moment, the only way to transmit her how much he really cared, and not only of her education or her social welfare, but also for her, as a developing woman and human being. Constance wrapped her arms around his waist and sunk into his warmth, understanding perfectly his message of support. They didn't know just how long they stood there, leaning against each other, Remus losing himself in Constance's smoothness, and the flowery scent her hair carried out, his body not wanting to part from her company, and the girl holding savagely on Remus' upper body, his chest becoming her resting shelter, the peaceful dock to anchor her battered ship, after a way too long and stormy journey. And being right there, in what felt like a pleasantly natural situation for the both of them, Constance's head lifted from Remus' shoulder and she looked straight into his gleaming brown eyes, the faint light of a crescent moon illuminating his saddened, yet full of braveness and nobility, features.

"Remus, if I hadn't met you, I wouldn't have lived this long." The girl whispered, her perfumed breath bathing the man's face, and pressed her lips against his in a very passionate way. For a glorious moment, Remus didn't know what had just happened.

It felt like dawning glory on Constance's every cell. Her body tickled in a very pleasant way, as her tongue caressed his lips, sucking softly at his mouth, her hands groping and massaging his back in a slow, but permanent motion. For a little moment, even, it felt as though Remus had decided to return the kiss, as his lips parted slightly, a very soft moan escaping them like either the betray of his amazement, or his own pleasure. Constance didn't think it twice, and plunged on, her tongue, breaking through a very small gap between two perfect rows of teeth and into his mouth, to meet its counterpart. For a small, fleeting and always-remembered-as-glorious moment, Remus sunk into the warm feeling that had earlier assaulted him in the deepest corner of his manhood, as he had caught her womanly scent and felt the softness of her breast pressing against him, and his mind had made an automatic account of her feminine features, her tiny waist and her soft and curvy hips, remembering the effusive and clearly spontaneous way she had embraced him earlier. He was a lonely man, longing for warmth and affection everywhere he could find it, and had long forgotten how good it was to feel a woman's touch. And even when he tried to push the idea out of his mind, trying to regard the underage Constance as his dear goddaughter, someone young enough to be his own child, he couldn't ban the thought of her lovely eyes, longing for comfort, and the way the setting sun reflected in her sleek black hair...

But at last, as realisation of the high levels in which the present situation was wrong dawned on him, he pulled away from her, shaken into bewilderment.

"W-Wha ..? C-Constance, no!" He stammered, gripping her hands strongly with his own and sliding them off his body. Constance opened her eyes with shock, and looked at him, as though this was the most ridiculously out-of-place thing to do at the moment. "Connie, look at me. Look at me closely, Connie, listen to me." He went on saying, hopelessly, as the girl had neither ears, nor eyes for anyone else at the moment. "This is wrong, Connie. I'm too old, and you are underage ... It's wrong!"

Constance looked at him in her astonishment, as though he was speaking words in a language she didn't understand, and at last, she turned her eyes away. A flicker of anger narrowed her gaze, and she looked back at her godfather's face, a hard look of rage distorting her features.

"Yes, there is something wrong here." She said, her voice a mere whisper but as painful and deadly to hear as if it was a scream. "But it is not the feeling I have for you, nor the step I took that you have been so fearfully eluding; it is the fact that you, a man old enough to know himself better, is afraid of his own feelings, and wouldn't reach out to get what he wants, even if it was within his arm's cowardly reach." She said, and turned away, walking elegantly and at a normal pace.

This time, Remus didn't know if he should follow her or not. The way her words had engraved on his mind, and how painfully had they stung him in the very thing he had been so desperately trying to hide had left him empty of reactions of any kind, as the shock was still making easy pray of his shaking body.


	3. Chapter 3: Moral Issues

**Author's notes:** First, a quote, from the mistress herself:

_"He _(Remus)_'s been disliked so often that he's always so pleased to have friends, so he cuts them an awful lot of slack."_

J.K. Rowling, (RAH 2003).

Of course, that is no excuse for me to mess with his fragility, but you know? I'm far from being a nice person. I worked on this in a busy job afternoon, and couldn't stop because I had the bug ... you know how that is, to be inspired and _having to simply write_. Well, go figure. Update: I polished this chapter as carefully as I could. That last scene wasn't properly completed.

Also, did you notice I'm blissfully ignoring Nymphadora Tonks and the events in Book Six concerning Remus? Yes? No? Good. I'll probably tie his present adventure with those events in the future, but don't count me on that.

**Disclaimer**: Remus Lupin does not belong to me. Sadly. And every mention to the Potterverse is only possible thanks to Mrs. Rowling's truly genial mind.

**

* * *

**

**T H E **

**R I G H T **

**T H I N G**

**ooo**

**Chapter Three: Moral issues**

"Uncle Remus, look! I can pronounce your name!"

A small and vivacious girl ran down the stairs and hopped up into her smiling godfather's arms, shouting herself hoarse with joy about her newly acquired ability.

"Listen, I can say your name properly now." Four-years-old Constance Leery said, with an overall serious air. "Remus." She added, looking up at him for approval.

"Very good, Connie!" He said, beaming at her. "I'm very pleased with this, and you know what?" He added, a small mischievous glint showing in his eyes. "What do you say if we celebrate with a huge cup of ice-cream?"

The girl went crazy with delight and applauded merrily among shouts of glee, not totally unlike a bird's joyous chirping. But suddenly, she stopped in her demonstrations, and turned gravely to look at her mother, smiling from a small distance.

"Mother, is it okay if I go?" She asked with a solemnity many adults would love to be able to show.

"Of course you can go, Constance. Uncle Remus is going to buy you ice-cream, you should be thankful." She added, hastily folding a small jacket and pushing it in the wizard's arm. "Thank you so much for getting her off my back, Remus." She said, walking them to the door. "There's so many things I need to do here, mostly housework, you know. And Timothy has just fallen asleep, so that should give me a couple of hours. Are you sure this is not an inconvenience?"

"Oh, not at all, Alice." He said, picking Constance's little hands out of his pocket, into which they had dived to find his wand. "I'm very pleased about spending time with my goddaughter. So, we should be back in two hours, then?"

"Yes, please. If there's anything you need, just send me a note, OK?"

Remus nodded, and headed out and into the lazy street of a summer afternoon, with the precious load of his only source of peace and rest.

They had had ice-cream. They had laughed and talked, especially Constance. Remus spent the better part of the next two hours sinking into the purest pool of innocence a four-year-old can be. She brought comfort to his weary mind and heart, and made him forget of his perilous way with her questions and her little conversation, in which she showed to be a very bright and intelligent person already. It showed through her acts that she was eager to achieve perfection in anything she tried. He had imagined how it would be for people with the ability to lead a normal life to have a child of their own, and in little Constance he could, at least, glimpse what it was to be happy and typical. And for a fleeting, devastating moment, he felt bitter against his lonely destiny, against the people that, in one way or another, felt - and probably, even were - superior because they didn't have to carry with an irreversible condition, as dangerous as it was loathed.

His werewolf condition.

"Remus, what is a werewolf?"

The wizard snapped back to reality at the mention of such word in his goddaughter's lips. For a moment, he froze, not knowing what to say to her. Should he go with the standard and highly-prejudiced explanation that was common lore in the Wizarding World? Or perhaps, he should soften it (in fact, 'correct it' were the right words) for her? What if she got freaked out and, one day, when she discovered his condition, wouldn't want to see him anymore? This single relation, Remus thought, the knowledge that there was someone out there who looked up at him with admiration and high esteem was something he wasn't keen on losing. For he had discovered that, as long as there were a single person who loved or liked him enough to remain a friend, the cold grip of loneliness would not be completely unbearable. And to think he would lose Constance's appreciation was too hard to bear, just as it was hard to even conceive the notion of lying to her. She, as well, deserved his respect and consideration, even at such tender age, and if there was a decision to be made, in regards of their relationship, Remus saw it just to let it be hers.

"A werewolf, Connie, is the thing a wizard or witch transforms into every time there is a full moon-"

"That would be one week a month, right?" The girl asked, interrupting him.

"Precisely." Remus said. "As I was saying, they have no choice but turning into a werewolf if they have been previously bitten by one."

Constance fell silent for a moment, pondering and assimilating this new piece of information. "And ... are they any bad?" She asked, upon frowning slightly.

"Werewolves are dangerous to humans, yes." Remus answered, gravely. "When the witch or wizard transform, they lose their human mind and become a hunting animal, specially interested in human victims, but harmless to other animals." He said, inspecting closely his goddaughter's reactions. Constance nodded, understanding it clearly.

"But why would they be left out to harm people?" She asked, deeply concerned. "Wouldn't it be safer if they were kept in isolation, so they cannot hurt anyone?"

Remus smiled as he very often used to, a sad streak of despair crossing his prematurely wrinkled features. "Do you think a wizard or witch deserves to be isolated from his or her friends and family forever, just because they happen to suffer of a very grave condition one week at a month?"

Constance's face showed uncertainty. The girl pondered the thought for a good while in silence, as her godfather peered at her face with a marked interest, and if slightly, a silent plead.

"Not all the time," she replied, after what seemed to be an eternity. "Only on the week of their transformation, and in the night, when the moon is up." She concluded with a very serious face.

Remus sighed inwardly with relief. It would seem that the words of his goddaughter had been his final sentence, and that he had been hanging on them to either shut himself away as a guilty convict, or breathe sweet freedom as an innocent man.

"You know? I think that, too." He said, smiling with a very deep contentment, something he hadn't felt for a very long time.

* * *

Many years had passed from the time of his memories, and Remus Lupin regretted not having scared his goddaughter away from him. Sitting at the barely-illuminated park, he ignored the chilling wind, an omen of rain, and sunk into his worries, into his manifold and hard decisions. Constance's words still rang in his ears, mercilessly prodding the very centre of his deepest insecurities. 

_... within his arm's cowardly reach..._

If anything, Remus had never liked people thinking of him as a coward. But as hard as it might be for him to have them doing so, the piling evidence on his incapability to make himself be heard when his voice was clearly contrary to popular opinion put a discomforting stop to all his arguments.

It trailed back to his days as a Prefect, in which he had clearly been appointed such task to put a stop on the stream of school unruliness from James and Sirius. But instead of steering them into the right direction, he had taken himself out of their way, and let them do as they pleased. He had even given in to their insistence to join their mischief, pushing the inherent guilt into the deepest corner of his mind and following on their schemes. And all the time, as he had done so to keep his friends close, he had battled fiercely to maintain his sentiments of inferiority away from interfering with his normal humour, knowing that his personal opinion would never be good enough to stop his friends from misbehaving. And he had pondered largely in part of his teenager's life and most of his adult's life if such behaviour was not the same as being a coward; if, later, when Sirius escaped Azkaban and he had not wished to inform Dumbledore about his friend's ability to perform the Animagus transformation for fear of losing the trust of one of the very few persons willing to do so, he hadn't acted like a real coward and placed knowingly, though wrongly, a large amount of people in the way of danger.

Looking in retrospective, he despised himself for not being brave enough to do the obvious right thing, and wished he had been able to extract himself from his need for company in order to do what was the best for everyone. He wished his emotions wouldn't have overcome him in the worst moment, and that he had had a couple more things to be proud of, because only then, he would have enough courage to put his foot in on the present situation.

Constance. The very name was dear to him. How had he been so blind about the girl's feelings? He had regarded it as a natural thing to be so close to one's godfather. After all, he had had friends for whom he would have gladly given his life, and had known love and the tender feeling it was to look into a face full of laughter and beauty. He had always seen the girl like a bond to a happier life, like the peaceful resort his tired existence was in need, even if he had not seen her for a long time. Her letters were always full of such a stainless bliss, impossible to find in older and wiser people. Her insightful words, always tinged with compassion for the human condition had been a relief to him; after the immense fear he had been in upon her discovery of his werewolf condition - it simply would not have done to tell her at a very early age, so he saved it for the day after her eleventh birthday, the year in which she'd start attending Hogwarts - she had surprised him by flinging herself into his arms and swearing, amongst streaming tears, that she would never, ever, think less of him or treat him badly for that, no matter how ill the rest of the world spoke of werewolves. He had not been able to articulate a word properly for a good while, his eyes filling with tears as she wept unrestrainedly against his chest. He had patted her back awkwardly, searching for the words to ease her pain, until only a small phrase occurred to him.

_Hey, let's be good friends, alright?_

Her round face had illuminated at his voice, and she had picked his right hand and shaken it forcefully, as though closing a proper deal.

_The best friends._ She had said, sealing perpetually their little pact.

Remus couldn't help feeling he had ruined it. For some reason, all the weight of his wrecked relation with his goddaughter was on him. He should have known better, he was the adult somewhat in charge. What would a sixteen-year-old know about love or relationships? It was true, though, that Constance had seen more of human's true nature than a regular teenager of her age, and that her sharp intelligence had made her mature quicker and understand how the human mind worked, but still, her knowledge should be only theoretical, or at least, Remus expected her to have kept herself whole and untarnished. Although then, he remembered his own adolescence, when he was about to turn seventeen. He had long nursed a soft spot for Lily Evans, and had never done anything about it, for fearing of rising to James' dislike. He had, too, felt that it would be an awful backstab to their friendship to make a move on the girl the capricious boy nearly adored, and had, once again, moved himself out of James' way. But all the nights and days he had dedicated to recall on her beauty and kindness, and all the varied things he had _known _he would do for her, provided the universe would get rid of James presence and memory, had been indeed many. And even if the force of his juvenile passion had been outweighed by his fear of losing his best friend, he had known exactly what he wanted, back then, and all the steps it'd take to achieve it. And never in his life had he doubted that, had he been brave enough to carry on with his plans, the results would have been satisfactory. But again, that was another thing he had against him: his lack of courage to pursue his heart's desire, and, as Constance had so painfully suggested it, it did, indeed, make him a coward.

The very thing he never wanted to be.

But, could Constance be really wrong? Wasn't she, then, old enough to know what she really wanted? The rebellious thought whipped like fleeting lightning into his mind, and made his stomach churn. It was not as though Remus would hurt her; in fact, he had vaguely envisioned having her under his tutelage for the rest of her education, in order for her to be able to present her final exams and get an official qualification of her education. He was concerned with the way her life seemed to be falling short to her own expectations; she had always shown a deep interest in acquiring knowledge and using it in practical ways, and that was certainly something that needed not to be hindered by her retirement from school. Wouldn't it be, then, most convenient for her intellectual development and well-being if he held certain influence on her life, if only through a mildly romantic relationship?

The mere thought of actually fulfilling the girl's desires made his heart beat faster. It was an insane idea, and his initial reaction was to recoil from it, but from his former train of thought he could easily deduce it was the only possible way to benefit her at the moment. Clearly, she wouldn't give up to her crush, and he knew her quite well to have that as an understatement, and if she was to be left alone, now that she had expressed her will to leave her house, chances of having any contact with her grew slim.

Remus leaned back on the bench and breathed deeply on and on, his eyes closed, trying to gather enough courage to go in her search. But when he opened his eyes, an odd sight met them. The sky had gone completely black, and there was an unnatural mist above and around him. Feeling suddenly wary, he rose and took out his wand, tip illuminated as soon as it was visible.

_Could it be dementors?_ He thought, walking slowly along the path, wand at the ready, and as an answer, he felt a sudden distress gripping his chest. Undoubtedly, there must be at least a couple of dementors swarming nearby, in search of a victim. Remus felt the weigh of responsibility on him, as he had to be the only wizard around to take care of it, and walked to where the mist was thicker. Soon enough, a couple of black figures loomed to meet him, bringing the chill to his every bone.

He muttered the Patronus incantation under his breath, concentrating on the moment Constance had smiled at him for the first time, as a baby, and a steady jet of silver shot from his wand. The two figures halted, and seemed bewildered about having encountered an opponent. But as the silvery charm died on, they advanced closer, bringing a whole set of unpleasant memories to his mind... The wizard wasn't going to let them win, so he tried again, this time placing his mind in the very moment he had seen Constance smiling the first time after she had discovered his condition, and said the incantation louder.

"Expecto patronus!" He said, and the silver jet knocked flat the two of them, sending them hurtling backwards. More dementors had gathered around, and upon recovering from the initial shock of finding resistance, they hurried towards him, their resolution to win the present match clear as water.

The load of regretful memories that their combined attack brought to Remus' mind was too heavy to bear. People's rejection, the guilt he never got over along the years and finally, the word 'coward' in Constance's lips ... It was all too much.

Fearing for his own life, Remus got hold of the last, and most recent memory he had: the very moment Constance's lips had touched his and the instant he had been too dumbfounded to reject her, and shouted the incantation.

"EXPECTO PATRONUS!"

A streaming shot of silver erupted out of his wand, and shaped itself as a charging wolf. One by one, it tackled on every dementor and fought them all away, rounding Remus protectively and seeing all the nasty creatures off. Panting heavily, Remus walked in the direction of his Patronus only to see it rush away and getting lost between the trees. Wondering what would such an odd occurrence could mean, he followed at a steady walk into a clear, and saw the sight that would have qualified as the first runner-up on his Boggart form.

There, lying limply on the floor was Constance's body. The silver wolf had vanished as Remus reached the girl, and he lost no time in getting to her side, and lifting her face.

"Connie, no, please, wake up!" He said, pulling out his wand again. "Enervate!" He cried his voice breaking with sheer horror.

Luckily, the girl was merely unconscious. She shifted slowly into Remus' arms, and tried to open her eyes.

"Wha ...?"

"It's alright, Connie. I'm here, with you, don't be afraid." Remus said, hugging her tightly and feeling the warm blanket of relief falling all over him. The girl lay still in his arms, and didn't say a thing. Probably it was awful, whatever they made her remember, Remus thought, and pulled away to see her face. "Thank goodness, Connie, I thought you w-were … d-dead …"

A look of dazzled confusion adorned her face, as he pulled her toward him once again. Feeling the warm and desperate embrace of her godfather, she got drawn out of her stupor, and wrapped her arms around his mid-section with all the strength she could muster, as though she was about to fall into a dark and deadly abyss.

"D-Don't l-leave me, please, R-Remus …" she stuttered, shaking uncontrollably into his arms.

And it was too much for him. His rightful reasons forgotten, he couldn't resist the way she clung on him as if he was her last resort, and threw himself in the pulling whirlpool of thoughtless emotion that rebellious idea burning him from inside had opened ever since their lips met for the first time.

He pressed his lips against hers, with the desperate anxiety of a stranded man to whom a glassful of fresh water had been offered.


End file.
